Jeter hit a triple in the ninth and the Yankees won, but Shuey had felt lousy all night long

Once, when Shuey Portman had been about 15, a group of his friends were going to a Yankees game during Aseres Yemei Teshuvah. He really wanted to go — it was against the Red Sox, both teams in a fierce fight for a playoff spot — but he knew his father would be disappointed.

So he planned it well, spending most of the afternoon working on his pitch. He came home for supper and passed by the dining room, where his father was learning. “Ta, I finally got invited to join the better group, you know, the boys you always wanted me to be friends with, Levy and Buckman and the others.”

Tatty had looked up blankly. “Oh, wonderful Yehoshua, that’s nice. You deserve it.”

“Anyhow, Ta, they’re going out tonight for a bit, Tuesday is the night off from seder, and it’s been so intense, with all the bechinos, and I want to join them, is that okay?”

And then, before Tatty could answer, Shuey continued, “This is a big deal for me, I’m not the loud type of guy, I’m not like Pinny who was born having friends and is popular the second he walks into a room… I’m so nervous about this, I hope I won’t say or do anything stupid.”

Tatty looked up. There was an open Shaarei Teshuvah on the table, next to a notebook and pen. Tatty was in a different place, and, as Shuey had anticipated, he didn’t even ask where they were going.

“Hatzlachah with your friends, Yehoshua, you’ll have a nice time, they’ll enjoy you. Do you need money?”

Feeling horrible and also a little bit excited, Shuey thanked him and ran down the hall to his room to change. He’d done it right. But as he headed up the steps he thought he heard Tatty sigh and then he realized that his father probably did know where he was going.

Jeter hit a triple in the ninth and the Yankees won, but Shuey had felt lousy all night long.

Years later, Mr. Kohl would berate him, “Portman, do you want to sell snacks or do you want to get turned down? Because I listen to you talk and you sound like you want people to slam the phone down, to be frank. You gotta develop a story, you have to know how to push…. I’ll tell you something, the ‘yes’ is always there, waiting for you, it’s your job to get to it. Make it impossible to say no.”

The Kohl boys — who’d never sold anything and considered themselves titans of salesmanship just the same — would listen to their father’s speech and nod along. “Yeah, Portman, you have to want the sale, let the other guy fight to say no.”

Now, sitting at the oval kitchen table in Rabbi Wasser’s apartment, the Rebbetzin’s laptop filling its center, a Kovetz Meforshim on Gittin and open binder next to it, he leaned in to make a sale.

He thought about Tatty’s sigh during that long-ago Aseres Yemei Teshuvah and also about old Mr. Kohl, leaning against the wall and lecturing about the “yes” being there, waiting for you.